It Takes a County
by Mirthless Laughter
Summary: Jesse spends a weekend in jail. His kids spend it... just about everywhere else.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** For T.S. Blue, who has spent the last (seven? eight?) several years sharing, indulging, and encouraging my love of Dukes at every turn. Thank you for everything. Hope you have fun on the ride._

* * *

 _"It takes a village to raise a child." - African Proverb  
_

* * *

 _Monday_

It's almost nine by the time Jesse Duke steps foot on his own land again. Early by the standards of Hazzard's finest, and Deputy Higgins is yawning behind his hand as he returns Jesse's parting wave; but it's already mid-morning for his farm, kept running by generous neighbors. Good folks, all of them, and he hadn't had no doubts that they'd look after the old place where he couldn't.

That don't, of course, stop the animals from letting him know they ain't at all pleased with his three-day disappearance. The chickens weave deliberate-like under his feet on the way to the barn, doing their best to trip him up. Maudine the Mule won't even look at him proper until he promises her extra oats for supper and a rubdown later; she is young, but she's already got that stubborn Duke air about her. The goats ain't vocal with their displeasure just yet, but Jesse knows that's only on account of their plans for later today, when it's time for the afternoon milking. They'll make their complaints known then, he's sure. The hound dog is pleased to see him, at least, but even she abandons him after her welcoming lick yields her a lingering taste of jailhouse food on his fingers. She just turns tail and curls up under the porch swing for another nap, content to ignore him again.

The house, when he finally makes it inside, is empty, and he stops by the kitchen table, soaking in the silence. Quiet ain't something this place has seen much of, what with the five generations of Dukes it's seen raised already. There is days when Jesse don't know but that the three he's got now can make more ruckus than any that's come before them, his nephews tumbling into and over each other at every turn and their girl-cousin mother-henning over them at the very top of her lungs. Sometimes there ain't nothing he wants more than a little peace.

Lord help him, though, he misses that racket fierce right now.

The keys to his pickup are on his bedside table, and he's halfway to the door again before he even thinks of Sweet Tilly, sitting in the impound yard back in town. No more cause to hold her there than there'd been to hold Jesse, but there hadn't been anything but lint in his pockets either, so there she'd stayed. It had taken some mighty fine talking to convince Rosco's deputy (who'd finally set him free on the orders of Harvey Essex, seeing as how Rosco hadn't bothered to show up for work yet) to give him a lift home. He pauses at the screen door, casts a look back over his shoulder to the top of the fridge. There's a tin up there, tucked near the back; Lavinia's, and he keeps his money and her old recipes there, both equal by means of needing protection. Tilly is patient, though, and plenty understanding. She won't mind waiting a little longer, just 'til he's got his kids back.

Leastwise he knows they're safe: the farm he knew would be looked after, but the kids he made plans for. Since their aunt's passing, Jesse's gotten to know firsthand just how much trouble those three could be when they were left alone too long. And, well – Jesse's lips pull up in amusement. J.D. ain't ever been good with kids, not from the first moment Lavinia had planted a squalling six-month-old Bo in his arms one long night nine years ago. Things hadn't changed much since then, other'n the fact that J.D. was the one who was mostly bald now. And probably about ready to pull out the rest of his hair, at that.

Best he gets there quick.

* * *

 _Friday_

"Get out the socks, Bo."

Big blue eyes come up to meet his, torn away from a close inspection of the cars lined up on their dresser. "Luke," Wasn't Bo complaining or agreeing, because he would have had to be listening to do either. "Which ones you reckon we should take?" His fingers hover first over the yellow Wayfarer, then the blue Packard, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

"I reckon," Luke answered. "That we need socks. Get some out." He turned back to the closet. "Underwear too."

He didn't need to be facing Bo to know that his little cousin's nose was wrinkled up in disgust. "We ain't gonna be gone _that_ long," He said. No time to question that conclusion, though, because Bo was already on to the next thought: "Look," Bed groaning out its complaints as Bo stretched across to reach for a car that was further away, on Luke's side of the dresser. "You know _he_ ain't got no cars, Luke."

And that, that there, was the ultimate offense to Bo Duke. Here J.D. Hogg had come sauntering into their kitchen, told them, yes, their uncle Jesse was locked up in jail, but never they mind that, he was there to take care of them, back at his own house, until it all blew over. Tone low and soothing, like the type you used on kids way younger than they were, promising he was sure as shooting that would be real soon. In jail for what? Oh, it wasn't nothing for them to worry over. They was just to come with him, never mind that Uncle Jesse was the one who'd left them there in the first place, to look after themselves and each other. Placating words and broad hand gestures, pacing around in Aunt Lavinia's kitchen like he owned the place, and he might even have patted Bo's head if it had ever gotten close enough, like he was five instead of going on ten. But the fact that the man had no matchbox cars to play with – _that_ was his only sin.

"I don't care, Bo," Luke decided, tugging free a pair of jeans. Bo's or his, it was hard to tell just by looking; he held them up against his legs to measure. Bo's: Luke had outgrown this pair last spring. "Take whichever ones you want, but," He crossed to his own bed, dropped the jeans into the open suitcase. "Don't you go losing any."

Bo made a face at him. "I don't lose things, Luke," And then, because he was a Duke and Uncle Jesse said Dukes couldn't tell lies, "Well, much."

Daisy picked just that moment to burst in, her arms full of clothes. Luke frowned. "Daisy," Here he had one cousin who didn't reckon on needing a single change of underwear, and one who figured on needing at least ten whole outfits, by the looks of it. "What's all that?"

"Clothes," Daisy replied, dumping her armful out across Luke's bed.

His frown deepened. "We only got the one suitcase," He reminded her. He wasn't even sure if it counted, either: the ragged thing was older than any of them, dark brown, and it wouldn't take much more than a sideways look for it to fall apart. Aunt Lavinia had always made Uncle Jesse carry it, because if it weren't held just so, everything spilled out.

"It'll fit," Daisy was confident. "You just gotta know how to pack things."

Which Luke apparently didn't, judging by how quickly everything he'd put in there was being hauled back out. "Daisy," He tried again, even though he knew it was a lost cause. "We ain't got all day."

Bo finally got off his bed, picking up the Wayfarer on his way. Not a surprise: Bo always went for the ones with the flashiest paint jobs, the brightest colors. "You best leave room for me and Luke's cars, too," He said.

Their girl-cousin ignored them both, already intent on taking her sweet time repacking.

Luke waited until he was facing his dresser again before he rolled his eyes. Just self-preservation: Daisy could hit as hard as Ernie Ledbetter, girl or not, and she took even less kindly to being told how to do things, even though Luke was the one who knew what he was talking about. And it would only be worse now, because packing their suitcases had always been something Aunt Lavinia'd done.

He yanked the top drawer open sharply, determined not to think about that. They'd been getting on all right since her passing, even if Luke hadn't quite figured out how she'd always managed to keep Bo's socks on his side of the drawer and Daisy still burned the bottoms of the biscuits every other night and didn't always cook the chicken all through the first time. Uncle Jesse was going back to running 'shine, wasn't he? That there was proof that everything was going okay.

Excepting, of course, he hadn't ever gotten caught before.

"Children!" That was Mr. Hogg, calling up from the base of the stairs. Stopped there, probably, because even laboring up the three steps to their front porch had seemed to take up all his energy when he'd first arrived. His voice was sticky-sweet, though, just the way that always made Uncle Jesse's eyebrows draw together like he knew trouble was coming. "Luke!" Just in case it wasn't clear who he was calling for. "Daisy! Hurry along now, Beauregard!"

At that last, Bo stood up from where he'd been leaning over the suitcase, his hands going to his hips. Luke was hardly ever wrong, even if he had to be the one to say it; but that there, that was the _real_ greatest sin. Bo's full name, and his small chest was already puffing out in righteous indignation, the type that led to foot-stomping anger and, at least half the time, a trip to the barn. Luke met Daisy's eyes: they didn't want Bo starting out in a fit of temper, especially seeing as how they didn't rightly know how long they'd be expected to stay with Mr. Hogg.

"Bo," One job he didn't mind letting Daisy take every now and then, this rushing to interject before their cousin could get out what was on his mind. "Looks like we got enough room for a couple more cars. How about the, uh," Her eyes lit briefly on the cars still on their dresser. "The Hornet?"

"Daisy, I -" Started out indignant, a frustrated breath over the distraction. But then his eyebrows drew together. "We ain't got a Hornet."

"Oh," Downward tilt of her chin, pointing towards the Packard. "That one, then. The pretty blue one."

Wide, incredulous eyes pinned on Luke, asking him with a look how anyone claiming to be a Duke could confuse a Hudson with a Packard. His commiserating shrug had Daisy's eyebrows drawing down angrily, but at least the more pressing danger had been avoided.

"Daisy," Bo turned back to her, his voice going high with disbelief. "That ain't - "

She slammed the suitcase shut and turned sharply on her heel. "I don't care. And don't you dare spill that suitcase, Luke Duke," She declared. Then, her voice deceptively sweet, she hollered, "We're coming!" and stalked out of the room.

"But Daisy, that ain't a Hornet!" Bo shouted after her, to no response other than stomping on the stairs. He looked back at Luke. "What's her problem?"

It was a thankless job, looking after Bo Duke's hide. Luke hooked his hand around the latch and carefully slid the suitcase off the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing spilled. "I don't know, Bo, but best we get going."

Bo did as he was told, still muttering after girl cousins who didn't know their cars.

* * *

 _Friday_

"Well, well, well, and well. If it ain't my cousin, Cletus Hogg."

In the rear view mirror, he saw Jesse's oldest make a face. Sort of look that served as a warning that sass was about to come out of his mouth and, "Well." Sure enough. "We _are_ at his house."

J.D. pointedly ignored that, just as he had everything taking place in the Ghost's backseat since Jesse's brats had piled in. His runner, and when he'd slid behind the wheel this morning, he might have been expecting trouble, but not this kind. Thought he was in for far more fun when Jesse had used his one phone call to reach him, figured at least there'd be plenty of shucking and jiving to do. An easy win, because Jesse hadn't even been caught with 'shine. He was driving Tilly, sure, but that wasn't a crime onto itself - and near about everyone inside of three counties knew there hadn't been so much as a drop of Duke 'shine run in near about six months.

Turned about that that wasn't what Jesse was after, though, and so here they was, even though the Ghost hadn't been built to haul a bunch of squirming, complaining kids. Seemed like the arguments kept taking twists he didn't quite follow anyhow, something about girls and how well they understood cars mixed in with who was sitting in whose part of the seat and who could dang well keep their opinion to themselves. Nothing he was getting in the middle of, anyhow.

"What are we doing here?" Bo piped up, straining to see around Luke, who had that ratty old suitcase pressed between him and the door.

"Yeah, ain't we supposed to be going to your house, Mr. Hogg?" Daisy wondered.

"Well, I just figured," He said, perfectly reasonable. "That you'd rather spend the day with someone closer to your own age."

Three pairs of eyes were on him now, and Luke's eyebrows were coming together, a near-perfect imitation of the thundercloud his uncle quickly became when he thought he was being shucked and jived. That was them Dukes: always suspicious. "But if Uncle Jesse said - "

"Look here," No reason to let that thought ruminate. "No need to fuss. Your uncle Jesse just figured," His fingers started for his coat pocket, for the cigar tucked in there; but then, they stilled. It had been Lavinia's rule, not smoking in front of her brood, but he didn't figure it was out of effect yet, not with her memory still so strong. "That I," He reached for the door handle instead. "Would make sure _someone_ looked after you." No use trying to reason with a Duke, after all. He swung open the door. "Cletus!"

His cousin came out of his sleep with a cut-off snort, the chair he'd had leaning back against the side of the house dropping onto its feet. "Cousin J.D.!" He exclaimed, and then winced in the direction of the house. Where his mama was laid up, no doubt, and probably none too happy to hear her son making so much racket, but J.D. couldn't help that.

Cletus stood to his feet. Stretched like a dog waking up from a snooze in the hot sun, and then he was coming down to join them. Them, because Jesse's brood had only just started piling out into the yard. "You want me to do a run for ya?"

"Dat, Cletus!" J.D. snapped. Glanced back at Jesse's kids and then leaned in close. "You just keep your mouth shut about my business, you hear?"

"But," Cletus blinked. "You brought the Ghost, so I - "

"Cletus," He rushed on, over his cousin. Cletus was a good enough driver - naturally, him being a Hogg - but he needed to learn to keep quiet. They'd work on it. "I got another kind of job for you."

After all, J.D. Hogg wasn't meant for such piddling things as _babysitting_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday_

"You did _what_?"

J.D.'s hands come up: to pacify Jesse, to defend himself. To snag a cookie off the plate on the coffee table, his fifth since Jesse's arrival. They'd been left there by one Lulu Coltrane, herself a firm believer in the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. Of course, in J.D. Hogg's case, she's like as not right; she's just got a lot of stomach to work through first.

"Now, look here, Jesse," J.D. says, around a mouthful. Crumbs spill down the front of his clean white suit. He's taken to wearing white lately nearly all the time, like that's all it takes to be considered an honest man, like it'll make everyone around here forget all the underhanded things he's done through the years. "There ain't no reason to be carrying on. _I_ was busy getting _you_ out of jail."

"You know good and well that ain't what I asked you to do!" Jesse thunders, steps forward. "You was _supposed_ to look after my kids!"

"Jesse Duke, I'm hurt," J.D. inches away from him, along the curve of the knee-high table, never too far away from the overflowing plate. "Downright hurt and offended that you would think I would ever, _ever_ put anything above," His gaze is on the cookies again. "Them kids."

Jesse can feel his temper flaring and, oh, there are lectures echoing through his mind. Not the ones that used to, the ones his own father imparted; it's the ones he's on the giving end of now, always telling Luke to count ten or Bo to think before he acts on his first impulse. "Control your temper or I'll do it for you," and he's imparted too many whippings when his boys have ignored his warnings not to have the words come rushing back at him now.

But, "Then where are they?" He only put in one request to his lifelong friend about what he ought to be doing while Jesse was in jail, and it didn't have nothing to do with getting him _out_ , of all the fool things.

J.D. reaches for another cookie.

Jesse swats at his fingers, just the way he often does at his own kitchen table when Bo forgets to wait for prayer. Gets the self-same look, wide-eyed and wounded, but it's easier to ignore on J.D. Hogg. "Stop filling your face and tell me where my kids are!"

"Now, Jesse," J.D. takes to brushing crumbs off his suit, just this side of pouting. "I did them kids a favor. They don't wanna be stuck up here in this old house with nobody to talk to or play with, now do they?"

Jesse's stomach twists with sudden dread. "J.D.," He says slow-like, the words a struggle to get past his lips. "You didn't send them kids to the orphanage, did you?"

J.D.'s hand falters on the coat of his jacket. Or maybe just pauses to pick up one of the larger crumbs, too big to be brushed away when it can be eaten. "No, Jesse," He says. "They're with my cousin Cletus Hogg, and his mama."

Whatever relief he gets from that is gone just as fast. Cletus is just barely sixteen and still ain't got the good sense the Lord promised a turkey, and his mama ain't been known to spend any more time out of bed than she has to; anyone would think the Hogg in the boy came from her side of the family, instead of his daddy's. All he manages to sputter is, " _Cletus_?"

Don't take more than that to get frowned at. "Jesse Duke," Sounds earnest, properly indignant, and J.D.'s even drawing himself up, puffing his chest out. "I'd thank you to watch how you talk about my kin." Jesse might even believe it, except he knows shucking and jiving when he sees it, especially from the man he's done more of it with than without. "Cletus has done a right fine job looking after those kids of yours these last few days. Seems to me that you'll be owing him a thank you."

He's been coaching Luke to count ten, so he does it now. And then counts ten more, just in case. "Fine then," He says. "I'll tell him. They out there at his mama's place?"

"Well, anyhow, that's where I left them," J.D. sniffs. "And you might just extend that thank you to me too, Jesse, seeing as how I was the one who got you - "

He's already out the door before J.D. can finish that thought.

Again.

* * *

 _Friday  
_

Sometimes looking after her cousins was a full-time job.

Most days, Daisy didn't really mind. She was the woman of the house now, after all. That meant cooking and cleaning, and standing on her tiptoes to be able to flip the clothes over the line or standing in front of a sudsy sink for an hour scrubbing dishes; but the most important part of the job, she knew, was looking after the Duke menfolk. Aunt Lavinia had always done that part of the job perfect.

It was just that, some days, they drove her up the wall. Like earlier, when Luke sold her out with just a look, like he thought she wouldn't notice, or -

"Bo!" Or like now, when Bo went plopping down in the yard when she's already told him, _twice,_ not to go getting his clothes dirty. "Now look what you done!"

"It's just grass, Daisy," Bo told her. And then, with all the nine-year-old nerve of a stuck-out tongue, he flopped back onto his back, looking up at the sky. "I ain't hurting nothing."

Easy for him to say, seeing's as how he never had to scrub grass stains out of his own jeans.

"You wasn't hurting nothing standing up, either," Was Luke's helpful take on the situation.

"Sure I was, Luke. My legs," Bo replied. "I bet Cletus has been there for an _hour_ already."

"He's been in there five minutes," Luke retorted. "You're just lazy, Bo."

"Am not either!" Bo might have stomped his foot, had he been standing. "Luke - "

"Okay, you two," Daisy stepped between them. The way this was headed, they were like as not to end up wrestling right here in the barnyard, and then Mrs. Hogg wouldn't never let them through the door. Besides, Luke was the one holding the suitcase, and the last thing Daisy wanted was for her delicates to be strewn across the lawn. "I'm sure Cletus'll be back out in a minute."

Luke rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything more. Bo, who hadn't gotten worked up quite enough to stand, went back to staring at the sky.

Daisy chewed on her bottom lip, looking back towards the house. It probably had been closer to fifteen minutes since Cletus had disappeared inside, palms out as he backed up towards the door, his words a jumble of _let me check with Mama_ and _just one minute_ and _stay there, okay_? No surprise that his mama wouldn't be thrilled with the news that they'd just been saddled with three unexpected guests, and all of them Dukes on top of that. No one had ever accused a Duke of being quiet, after all, and Cletus's mama didn't like noise.

"Luke," Bo piped up, his fingers idly tugging up strands of grass. "You reckon Cletus's mama is gonna die?"

"Bo!" Daisy gasped. "Don't talk like that!"

"Well," He glanced up at her defensively, his chin tucked. "She's got to stay in bed all the time, just like Aunt Lavinia."

Who died, was the unspoken conclusion, and Daisy didn't need to see the way Luke's jaw was clenching to know he was in no mood to be asked about that. Luke was never in the mood to talk about their aunt, his temper rising out of its usual simmer into a full-on boil; but sometimes, when Bo was the one asking, he managed. For a few minutes, at least.

But that was when he was in a good mood, or as good as Luke's moods got. The thing was, Uncle Jesse had sat them down just last night, her and Luke, and told them he was counting on them to look after each other, and Bo. Six months since a drop of Duke 'shine had been run, and not only was the county feeling it, so were their stomachs. And the mortgage, and half a dozen other accounts that had to be paid up. They was old enough, Uncle Jesse had said, to look after themselves one or two nights a week.

He'd kept Luke in the kitchen after he'd sent her off to bed, and Luke's eyes had been dark and serious this morning as he'd led Bo out to the barn to get started at chores and wait for their uncle to come home from his delivery.

Only to have that responsibility usurped by a man in a white suit and then, of all the insults, _Cletus_ _Hogg_ , who was himself only four years older than her and Luke. And that wasn't even to mention Uncle Jesse, locked up in a jail cell in town, them not even knowing what all the charges were or how long...

But since Luke wasn't planning to answer Bo's question, Daisy had to do it instead: "Mrs. Hogg ain't sick like Aunt Lavinia," She said. "She's just got the vapors."

Bo's nose wrinkled in confusion. "What's that?"

"Oh, uh," Somehow, she hadn't thought to question it when Uncle Jesse had told her. He'd said it with such authority that she had just accepted it as fact. "It's..."

"It means she's allergic to little blond brats," Luke put in. Might have been a joke, except there was a hard edge to it, sharp enough to make Bo sit up. And then stand, temper mounting.

"Luke, now you just - "

Behind them, the screen door slammed shut. "Uh, guys?" Cletus called. He hurried down the porch steps, keys jingling in his outstretched hand. "Mama says she reckons we ought to head back to your place. You know, so you're comfortable." His smile was totally sincere, and slid past unappreciated. "But I'll stay with you. You ain't got nothing to worry about."

Oh, Daisy thought, glancing between her cousins, Cletus was definitely wrong about that one.

She had plenty to worry about.

* * *

 _Friday_

" _Monday_?" It came out in a high-pitched whine. "I thought you said it was an easy fix!"

Cooter used a wrench to push back his oil-coated hat, scratching at his head. "Well now, it ain't so much the fix's that's the problem," He said. "It's just that I ain't supposed to be doing any fixing like this until my daddy's home. Just looking after the gas pump, airing up tires."

And some towing apparently, even though Cletus had been about as nervous about that as he was about telling his mama what had happened to the sedan. Not that he had much choice, on either count: the jump had been the only way to avoid the oncoming semi truck on a road too small for a bicycle to fit down proper, and they'd been lucky the driver had stopped and come back to check on them, and then called up to the garage with his CB. But the cracked oil pan had made Cooter whistle and shake his head. _"Try to drive this and you'll end up with a blown engine, Cletus,"_ Had been Cooter's advice out there on the road, delivered with a slap to the back. _"How'd you manage this one, anyhow?"_

His mama was gonna kill him. There just weren't any two ways about it.

"Lookee here," Cooter relaxed against the lip of the sedan, wiping one palm absently against his pant leg, which wasn't no cleaner. "You got my word. We'll get to it first thing Monday morning. That ain't even too far away."

But Sunday came first, and even though Mama hadn't been to church in nearly a month, this week was sure to be the one she felt up for it. Cletus groaned.

Above them, from the loft where all three Dukes had rushed when they'd gotten here (Bo still chattering about the jump as they went, as though it was _on purpose_ ), Daisy Duke leaned over to holler, "You all right down there, Cletus?"

He wasn't anything close to all right, not with a death sentence hanging over his head, but, "Everything's fine, Daisy!" He hollered back anyhow. Then, to Cooter in little more than a hushed whisper, "Ain't there nothing you can do? For an old friend?"

Cooter's eyebrows disappeared under his mop of hair. "I don't reckon so, seeing as how near 'bout everyone in Hazzard is an old friend," He grinned. "'Sides, I got my own hide to look after."

The problem was, his mama already hadn't been thrilled about Bo and Luke and Daisy staying with them to begin with. Didn't matter that it was Cousin J.D. who'd brought them over, or that running 'shine for Cousin J.D. was what put food on their table more often than not; she didn't even like having _Cletus_ in the house most of the time, since he was always bumping into things or knocking something over. But when he wasn't there, she worried, and needed his help, and he had told her that he reckoned Jesse Duke would be home soon anyhow and then he'd be right back, and -

"Can't I take one of the loaners?" Cletus burst out, desperate.

"Cletus," Cooter shook his head. "I ain't even supposed to be working on cars, but you reckon I can go loaning them out to any old person who asks?"

The idea came to him suddenly. There was only a very small part of him that was Hogg; but Hoggs were survivors, born protectors of their own skins. "I get it, Cooter," He said, in that careful sort of way that Cousin J.D. said things when he knew just what he was saying. "You wouldn't want to be doing nothing your daddy told you not to."

Cooter's eyes went narrow.

"And he gave you permission to be giving people tows," Cletus went on. "You couldn't get in no trouble doing that."

That got Cooter onto his feet. "Cletus, now listen here, I did you a favor!"

"And I'm obliged!" Cousin J.D. would never have yelped, even if the person he was talking to _did_ stand a head taller than him. (Cooter had just hit his growth spurt a little earlier, was all.) "I'm obliged, Cooter," He insisted, backing up just a step, because, well, good sense was good sense, when Cooter still had that wrench in one hand. "And I just need you to do me one more."

"I can't just give you a whole blamed oil pan!" Cooter exclaimed. "You think he's not gonna notice that?"

"The loaner - "

"Cletus, you ain't got the sense of a turkey!" The wrench came dangerously close to his nose, was snatched back at the last second. "If he's gonna notice an oil pan's missing, don't you think he'll notice a _whole entire car_?"

"Look," Cletus spread his hands, placating-like. Cousin J.D. always did that kind of thing, and it sure always seemed to work for him. "It's all right. I got us the perfect plan."

Looks couldn't kill; if they could, Cousin J.D. would already be dead.

At least, he was pretty sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note:_** _Sorry all for the impossibly slow update this time around. Work and school have been kicking my butt. That having been said, I'll be getting back on a more regular updating schedule again now.  
_

 _Thanks to all who have read and all who have reviewed!  
_

 _To my guest reviewer, to whom I cannot reply in PM: Yes, Cooter is fifteen/sixteen here. Thanks for your kind words!_

* * *

 _Monday_

When they were still kids, no more than knee-high to a grasshopper, him and J.D. used to walk past the Simon house with their mouths propped open. Building took up half a block by itself, sprawling and white, and they never made it more than two steps past it before they'd take to grinning at each other, dreaming of the days when they'd have enough to afford such a place for themselves. Just two dirt-poor little boys with wild dreams and big heads and mixed-up priorities.

Jesse, at least, is grown up now, knows there are more important things than how much money you got to line your pockets with. Can't, if he's being honest, rightly imagine ever wanting a house any bigger than the one that was handed down to him: even without the family history that's poured into every inch of the place, reminding him of them that's gone before, there is the upkeep to consider. What his mama and then his Lavinia had always kept running clean and smooth and perfect, it takes all him and all three of his kids to do now, and the job's only about half as good, too.

J.D., though - J.D. is a different story. Same little boy greed, not tempered at all by a grown man conscience, but then, he sure does know how to spin a good tale. Has about half the town believing he'd done old Widow Simon a favor by evicting her, like moving her in with her distant kin in Tennessee she hadn't seen in going on five years was something she'd wanted. Never mind that she'd never been more than a couple miles outside of Hazzard her whole life; never mind that J.D. had moved himself into her home - lock, stock, and barrel - before the dust of the bus taking her to her new life had even properly settled behind her.

Jesse slaps the gate closed on his way out with enough force that it bounces back open again. Levels at a frown at it as it glides to a stop just outside his reach, eyebrows drawing together - but that's silly, downright foolish, because the gate has no say in the matter, can't stop sassing him even if it knew it was. He steps back and pulls it shut again, gentler this time. Gives it an apologetic pat.

Lord help him.

He _really_ needs to find them kids.

He's back to his truck, back on the road, when he sees him: Cletus Hogg, standing across the square in front of the Davenport garage. His mama's pitiful-looking sedan is parked right there next to the gas pumps, but he's planted himself next to a loaner car, peering at the "Closed" sign still in place across the garage doors.

Jesse whips across the square, dodging a slow-moving driver and earning a horn for his trouble. Throws the truck into reverse and hooks it in next to Cletus, already talking through the open window. "Cletus!"

The boy near about jumps out of his skin. "Uncle Jesse!" He exclaims. Blinks at him, all wide eyes and slow thoughts, and then asks, "Ain't you supposed to be in jail?"

"Just never you mind that. And," He grumbles as he climbs out of his trunk. "I ain't your uncle Jesse." It's a matter of principle: his kids don't have much that's only theirs, not even mamas and daddies anymore, and there ain't much of anything at all that he can do about it. All he can give them is their name and their craft, but that's been enough for all the Dukes before them, and it's got to be enough for them, too. "Ain't you supposed to be back home with your mama and my kids?"

Another uncomprehending look, and then a mournful toss of his head. "No sir," Cletus says. "I'm _supposed_ to be right here. So's Cooter."

"Cooter?" It's a slippery slope, asking questions, and he knows it, but he can't quite help himself. "You thought _Cooter Davenport_ was going to get to this here garage on a Monday morning? Before his daddy?"

Cletus actually has the gumption to look offended. "Well, he's got to, Uncle Jesse, because how else are we gonna - ?" But then Cletus catches himself. Catches, too, the hand that's come out from his pocket to wave around a set of keys that ain't his mama's. He puts the keys back away, frowns at the garage door. "He oughta be here."

Jesse ain't blind and he ain't stupid. What he is, though, is raising three kids with Duke blood in them, and he knew he was better off not asking questions he doesn't care to know the answer to. Especially when he's got one right there he does wanna know the answer to: "And Daisy and the boys?" He asks.

"What about them? I ain't been watching them," Cletus grumbles. Then, in nearly a holler: "Dang it! Why ain't he here?"

Temper tantrums Jesse knows how to deal with; and it plain must run in the family, because he might have expected the same kind of high-pitched sass from a certain other Hogg. But, "Cletus," With J.D., he don't have quite as surefire a threat. "If you're figuring you ain't got to pay me mind because you're too big to whip, you've got another thing coming."

Cletus freezes, eyes widening even further, looking at Jesse like he's just seeing him for the first time. Steps away, angles his body so his backside ain't so easy a target, and Jesse nearly snorts in spite of himself. Luke's just as likely to bring up his chin and dig in his heels after a warning like that these days; he tries not to think what it's going to be like when his oldest gets just a little older.

And anyhow, he's got his reassurance that he can still bring someone to fumbling repentance easily. "Yes sir, Uncle Jesse," Cletus stutters out. "I didn't mean nothing, I swear. But I don't know where they are, sir."

"J.D. said he left them with you and your mama," Jesse says, his brow furrowing.

"Yes sir, he did, and I brought them here with me to the garage on Friday, and then I - I - " If anything, Cletus goes more white.

"You what?" Jesse demands.

"Well," Shifting now, fidgeting. Cletus rubs sweaty palms on his pant legs. "I just - I mean, they was up in the loft, see? So I just - I just - me and Cooter were talking, and when I left, I must have," His confession, in a whisper: "I musta forgot 'em."

"You _forgot_ them?" It comes out in a roar, loud enough to make Cletus take another step back. "For _three whole days_?"

"Well - I mean, I mean, it ain't like they're wandering around alone!" Cletus defends. "They was here! With Cooter! I'm sure he didn't - I mean, I'm sure he took them home with him."

What it was with Hoggs and not understanding what could be interpreted as good news and what could not, Jesse doesn't know. Cooter Davenport wasn't even full grown, but he was already spending half his time drunk and all his time a darned fool. "You're sure - " He sputters. Stops. _Count ten_ , he tells himself, and then says instead, "I just ain't - forgot them! Three _whole_ people! With Cooter!"

"If - if you wanna wait here with me," Cletus stutters. "I mean, I'm sure Cooter won't be too much longer, Uncle Jesse, sir, and - "

Jesse don't reckon he'll ever have the patience to deal with this. He is already halfway back in the truck.

"Or you can go out there yourself," Cletus amends. "That's a good idea."

Jesse slams the door to his truck closed, hard. Shifts gear. Casts a glance upward, a silent eye roll of a prayer for patience and self-control and the will to tolerate this foolishness.

"Hey, uh, Uncle Jesse. When you see Cooter," Cletus pipes. "Can you tell him I'm waiting on him?"

No getting around it: it's going to be a long day.

* * *

 _Friday  
_

Cooter's house was one of Bo's favorite places in all of Hazzard.

School days were awful and endless, wasting hours and hours going over things that didn't hardly matter to a Duke, names and places and numbers that had nothing to do with driving or running 'shine or even farming. Just him in a classroom without Luke or Daisy, being told to watch his mouth and his temper and his manners even though he'd never once punched anyone who didn't deserve it.

Summer was different, though. Summer was him and Luke filling up every spare minute fishing and swimming and flopped on their bellies planning escape routes from revenuers, racing cars with their fingers. And this year, Uncle Jesse had been letting them do plenty more: whole days spent in the abandoned shell of Shoveltown or up in the Indian Caves, pedaling as far and as fast as their bikes could carry them. Aunt Lavinia had always been more picky, wanting to know where they was going to be every minute; but they was old enough now, finally, that Uncle Jesse only needed them to get their chores done and be home in time for dinner.

They'd added in stops to wherever Cooter was, at his daddy's garage or what was left of the Davenport farm, because in the summer there was no one around to tell them they ought to be separated by age or size, and it didn't matter that Cooter was older than them. Of course, Uncle Jesse said their place couldn't really be called a _farm_ , at least not since the first Model T rolled off the line and into Hazzard, but Bo liked it better out here: this was where Cooter and his daddy both kept their projects, cars they was working on restoring that they'd hauled back from the scrapyard. Cooter was easy to get along with, too, never once acting like Bo was too _little_ or like one Duke boy should be left out where the other one was welcomed. Bo had it figured the same way.

And: "You get _donuts_ for dinner?"

"Well," Cooter's smile was big and toothy. "This here is actually my breakfast for tomorrow." He set the greasy box down on the table, flipped open the cover. "But _mi_ donuts are _su_ donuts."

"Who's Sue?" Bo asked distractedly, his attention already on the donuts.

Luke kicked him under the table, hard; but before he had a chance to do much more than shift a glare up towards him, Daisy was saying, "We're much obliged to you, Cooter, but we couldn't take your breakfast."

"We couldn't?" Bo turned the frown towards Daisy instead. His girl-cousin could speak for herself.

"Ain't nothing to worry about there, Miss Daisy," Cooter replied, dropping into a chair and spreading out his hands. "Y'all are welcome to it. Besides," He scraped his fingers thoughtfully over the wispy hair on his chin. "There ain't anything else here ready for y'all to eat."

"What'll you have tomorrow, then?" Luke asked dryly. He had their suitcase sandwiched between him and the table, even though even trying such a thing at home would have gotten him sent away without any dinner at all.

Why worry about tomorrow when they were hungry right now? Bo slid forward in his chair, stretching until his toes touched the floor. "He can eat with us tomorrow. At home. Uncle Jesse won't mind."

Luke and Daisy looked at each other, those kind of looks they got sometimes that meant _Bo doesn't get it_ and _we're older, so we know better_ and, in Daisy's case, _ain't he sweet?_ Made him foot-stomping mad, only he knew better: Uncle Jesse didn't say things like _mind your temper_ or _watch your mouth_ like his teacher did at school, gentle like he couldn't help that he wasn't obeying, swayed from carrying out any threats if he smiled at her just right. Their uncle always meant business, and he always seemed to know just what they were up to, even if he wasn't there.

"Maybe I could cook something for us," Daisy finally offered, like Bo hadn't spoken at all. "You got fixings?"

"There are some," Cooter said around a frown. "But there ain't exactly any clean dishes."

"There ain't any - " Daisy was sitting, but her hands still had room to find her hips. "Cooter Davenport!" She exclaimed. "Your mama is coming home in less than two days!"

"I know," He agreed. "That's when she's gonna wash 'em."

Daisy liked to think she was just like Aunt Lavinia, same way Luke always figured he had the same kind of authority as Uncle Jesse because he could sometimes get his voice to dip low on the right words. Just excuses from both of them to boss Bo around more often, but Daisy was always slipping up: she couldn't keep her unhappy in, always letting out big and dramatic huffs like the ones she was letting out now. Aunt Lavinia had always gotten quieter when she got mad.

Luke moved in quick, before Daisy could move on into her scalding lecture. "Cooter," He said. "You reckon if we help you with them dishes, we could stay the night?"

"Well, y'all are welcome to..." Cooter started, tilting his chair backwards off its front legs. But then he faltered, eyes shifting from Luke to Daisy and then back again. Like he could somehow be part of the private talking they sometimes did over Bo's head, and the thought was enough to make Bo's blood boil. Cooter wasn't even a _Duke_. "Well, now, what I mean to say is, uh, I reckon that'd be fine, Luke."

"Great," Luke said. There wasn't even an edge to his voice, just relief; and, scooting back just a little, he eased their suitcase out and put it on the floor. "Well, we might as well get to it then."

"Well, I ain't!" Bo interjected. "Not until we eat first!"

"Bo," Luke was back to calling him a fool with just his name. "We just got done saying - there ain't nothing to eat."

Luke was the real fool, though, because, "Yes, there is," Bo reminded him. "The _donuts_."

"Bo," Daisy this time, tag-teaming him.

"Hey, look, y'all," Cooter put in. He brought his chair back down with a thump. "We might as well have the donuts now, and then Miss Daisy here can make breakfast in the morning. No rush." And then, as though the matter was decided, he reached into the box and pulled one out.

Yup, Bo thought, happy to ignore Luke's frown and Daisy's glower as he grabbed a donut for himself.

He'd like staying with Cooter just fine.

* * *

 _Saturday_

Beverly Hibbs was the most beautiful girl inside three counties.

Grocery shopping wasn't high on Cooter's to-do list, but one thing he was learning from having this younger generation of Dukes around was that they could all be just as stubborn and intimidating as their uncle Jesse when they wanted to be. He still wasn't sure how he'd been roped into joining their dish washing assembly line last night, Daisy washing, Bo rinsing, Luke drying, him putting away; and, while he'd slept through the breakfast preparations and the egg gathering this morning, he'd still been faced with Daisy's hands on her hips after he'd eaten, telling him if he planned on her making them lunch, he was going to have to let her come to town and pick up some food.

The truth was that he hadn't been planning much on coming into town today, seeing as how he had guests now and not much to do at the garage worth doing, seeing as how he wasn't supposed to work on cars or run the tow truck or do anything except man the gas pumps. And he hadn't wanted to look at Cletus's mama's sedan, sitting there all sad and pitiful at the side of the garage, reminding him of the shuck and jive they were gonna have to pull off to convince his daddy that Cletus had just happened to crack the oil pan right there in front of the very place it could get fixing. Not, of course, that it was hard to believe with the kind of driving Cletus was known for - or at least, Cooter hoped. But it had been the best meal he'd had since his folks had gone out of town and, truth be told, he hadn't spent much of the money they'd left for him for food, mostly spending his evenings filling up on peanuts and sneaking sips of his friends' beers - and, well, he couldn't very well tell Bo and Luke and Daisy that, not seeing as how he valued his hide and had a plenty healthy respect for the man who'd be coming to pick them up. So he'd just nodded like the thought of lunch had already been on his mind and gone after his keys.

Turned out to not be so bad, in spite of the groaning the announcement met with from Bo and Luke. Sure, Daisy had already spent fifteen minutes trying to pick between the only two types of flour Mr. Rhuebottom carried with no clear sign of being any closer to a decision; but on the other hand, Beverly had walked in five of them minutes ago, and she was wearing her brown hair down, loose around her shoulders.

" - do you think, Cooter?"

He thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, including the racing engine they'd pulled out of that trashed car last week after the boys from the circuit had left behind, and him and Daddy had marveled over that for nearly two whole hours before they'd even tried -

"Cooter!"

Cooter blinked, looked back at Daisy. "Say what again, Daisy?"

Daisy's hands were planted firmly on her hips again. "You're just as bad as Bo and Luke," She declared. "Ugh! Would it kill you to pay attention to a woman for five minutes? Give me that!" Her hands closed around the basket he'd been holding for her, still completely empty. "Go on."

"Go on?" Cooter repeated, dumbfounded.

"To wherever Bo and Luke got off to," Daisy replied. It was the same long-suffering air about her that Mama had whenever she headed into the store alone, like she ever wanted help when she was shopping for groceries. He wondered if all women came knowing how to use that there voice.

Well, maybe not _all_ women: Beverly Hibbs had noticed him, and she was smiling. _Smiling_. At him. "Um," His palms were suddenly sweaty. "If you think you'll be all right."

"I reckon I'll be just fine," She said, with a weary huff.

"Just," He brushed his hands against his jeans, found it was a little more effective at getting sweat off than oil. "Uh, come and find me when you're all ready to go."

She waved him away with one hand, already leaning back over to examine the flour labels again.

It was both the longest and shortest walk down an aisle of Rhuebottom's Cooter had ever taken, getting over to Beverly and her soft smile and deep laugh. In fact, the way her hand went flat against his chest made him forget everything else he had ever known up until that point.

Including, until he was driving her back from the Hazzard Pond three hours later, that same hand intertwined in his on the seat between them, the Dukes.


End file.
